Trust
by Sigil
Summary: The hobbits don't trust Aragorn and set out for Rivendell alone - but what about the Wraiths?


Trust  
Something was wrong. Samwise Gamgee (known by his friends, enemies, and admirers as Sam) knew that strangers popping up out of nowhere were very rarely telling the truth when they said that they had been sent to help someone. After all, how did they know that Gandalf had sent the man? For all they knew, Strider could be a servant of the Enemy!  
  
However, when had he mentioned his fears to his master, Frodo had seemed resigned.  
  
"We have no choice but to trust him." The hobbit had said wearily.  
  
At the time, Sam had agreed with him. How were they supposed to get away from a man - and a Ranger, at that? Now, he had uncovered another option. Secreted inside his pack was kalera, a plant that sent anyone that ate it to sleep. Mixing it with Strider's food would give the hobbits at least an hour's head start. And even if the Ranger did think the food tasted funny, the smallest bite would knock the man out.  
  
Now, Sam just had to convince Frodo that his plan would work. After Strider had left camp to scout ahead, he approached his master and outlined the plan. Frodo considered.  
  
"I don't know. How are we going to get him to eat it?"  
  
"Well, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied. "I was thinking that I could cook up something special when we stop tonight. I looked through our packs, and we have the ingredients for a recipe the Gaffer taught me."  
  
"You have this all thought out, don't you Sam?" Frodo laughed wryly as he nodded his head yes.  
  
Once Strider returned, the four hobbits put their plan into action. Pippin and Merry distracted Strider while Sam cooked supper, carefully adding a good dose of kalera to the Ranger's portion. Soon, the travelers were eating their best meal in days. While they ate, the hobbits yawned suggestively at the Ranger. It seemed to work. As soon as Strider finished his food, he rolled himself into his blanket and fell fast asleep.  
  
Sam, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were instantly in motion, dousing the fire, packing the extra food into their packs, and making sure they had enough supplies. Within a few minutes, they were on their way. Only one problem - where?  
  
It was then that the hobbits discovered the main flaw in their plan - they had no clue as to where they were going. They didn't even know where they were!  
  
Pippin immediately sat back down. "So much for that. Let's sleep."  
  
Merry plopped down beside him. "I'm all for that."  
  
Sam hauled them back to their feet. "We're going, and that's final." He gazed around the campsite. "We came from that direction, I think, so we don't want to go there."  
  
Pippin broke in. "I think we came from that way." He pointed in the opposite direction.  
  
Merry slapped Pippin's hand down. "Did not. We came from that way."  
  
"Want to fight me for it?" Pippin demanded.  
  
"Now, wait just a minute!" Sam exploded as Merry adopted a wrestling stance.  
  
Finally, Frodo spoke up. "We're going to wake him up if we're not careful."  
  
That quieted the hobbits immediately. As one, they glanced at the sleeping form. "I thought he wouldn't wake up for a while." Pippin whispered  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "Frodo, why don't you just pick."  
  
Frodo closed his eyes. "Spin me." He said.  
  
Sam complied. After a few dizzying turns, Frodo pointed out into the night.  
  
Pippin gave a gleeful cry and punched Merry in the shoulder. "Told you!"  
  
Little did they know, they were going exactly where Strider had been leading them - Weathertop.  
Aragorn awoke two hours later to an enormous headache. He staggered to a nearby stream and ducked his head underwater, letting the coldness wash over him until he was fully awake. Kalera. They used kalera. He winced. How could he have been so stupid? He had not expected the naïve hobbits to have any tricks up their tiny sleeves.  
  
Grunting, he pulled his head out of the stream and took stock of his surroundings. The hobbits had taken their packs and Bill, the pony, but had left Aragorn his sword and his pack.  
  
Following the signs, he saw where Pippin and Merry had plopped down in the dirt, then where Frodo had spun. Hobbit tracks led away into the night.  
  
Aragorn laughed. Weathertop! Of all the places in Middle Earth they could chose to go, they had chosen the very place they were being led.  
  
Quickly, he stamped down on his mirth. This was no laughing matter. The hobbits were once again unprotected against the terror of the Nazgúl. Aragorn would have to find them before the Black Riders did. Rubbing his temples, the Ranger shouldered his pack and set off. The hobbits had made no attempt to hide their tracks; they seemed more concerned about getting out of there as fast as they could. Aragorn winced. What had he done to make them so afraid of him? If only Gandalf had been at the Prancing Pony, none of this would have happened!  
  
Intent on the trail and his own mistakes, Aragorn did not even hear the approaching footsteps until a knife was at his throat. Mentally cursing his lack of attention, Aragorn turned. He half expected to see a band of orcs leering at him, but the answer was quite the opposite. Legolas Greenleaf smiled, amused, at the shocked Ranger's face.  
  
"Mae govannen to you too, Aragorn. I did not expect to be able to sneak up on you so easily." Legolas teased in elvish. "Even a Dunedain - and surely the infamous heir of Isildur - should have heard my approach." His face was carefully schooled in a stern expression, which quickly became a look of mock sadness. "And here I thought I had taught you better than that."  
  
Aragorn cuffed him on the shoulder, grinning with relief. "Very funny. As if you could have taught me anything." He sobered quickly. "I was off my guard, I admit. I was guiding Halflings to Rivendell, but apparently they had other ideas."  
  
"Did you scare them off with your charm?" Legolas turned to look at the trail before the full import of Aragorn's words hit him. He whirled around. "The Halflings?" He breathed, as if even whispering it would cause the Dark Lord to hear his words.  
  
Aragorn nodded.  
  
The elf sighed wearily. "This makes my news even worse. I am traveling ahead of a party from Mirkwood to inform your father that Gollum." He hesitated, then plunged on. "He's escaped."  
  
Aragorn stiffened. "What? You let him escape?"  
  
"Orcs attacked his guards." Legolas said quietly.  
  
Aragorn stared out over the all-too-obvious trail toward Weathertop. "Well, it can't be helped." He cast a sidelong glance at Legolas. "We must find the Halflings before the Nazgúl do. They carry something.precious.to the Wraiths' master."  
  
The calm expression on the elvin prince's face belied the sudden fear in his eyes. "Isildur's Bane has been found?" He whispered.  
  
Aragorn nodded, turning back to the hobbits' trail. "You can see why time is of the essence."  
  
The two started down the path toward Weathertop.  
Chapter 2  
Sam Gamgee was having trouble. The fire wouldn't start, Merry and Pippin refused to stop complaining (or help, for that matter), and Frodo was growing more and more distant. Everyone was relying on him to cook supper, watch for Strider, and ten million other things no one else thought of doing. Sam had wanted to hide their trail, but Merry and Pippin had been adamant. Covering trail signs would take far too long, and besides, Strider would never catch them now - or so they thought. Sam wasn't so sure. He'd seen how well the Ranger followed trail sign. They didn't stand a chance.  
  
However, to the company he kept an optimistic face. It would not do for the other hobbits to see him down. Still, Frodo's attitude worried him. Ever since they had left Strider, Frodo had been jumping at the slightest noise. He had almost seemed more at ease with the Ranger than without him.  
  
Suddenly, Frodo's head whipped around to stare out into the darkness. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.  
  
"No." Sam replied, instantly alert. "What is it?"  
  
Frodo shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing. I - "  
  
A soft call interrupted them. "Sam, I think I see a better place to spend the night!" Pippin said. For reasons unfathomable to any reasonable hobbit, Pippin had decided to climb a tree.  
  
"Where?" Sam hissed back.  
  
"There's some big hill up ahead. Looks like one of them watchtowers Gandalf told us about."  
  
"It's 'those', Pippin." Merry called from the fire.  
  
Sam frowned and glanced around their camp. Merry was attempting to juggle flaming sticks (which he kept dropping dangerously close to the blankets) while Frodo glared fearfully into the darkness. He turned back. "How far is it?"  
Aragorn sniffed delicately at the night air, then motioned to Legolas. "Do you smell that?"  
  
The elf frowned, nose turned to the air. "Smoke."  
  
Nodding, Aragorn scanned the skyline. "There. See?" A thin trail of barely visible smoke rose from within the trees ahead.  
  
Legolas squinted. "There's a hobbit in the trees down there. Wait - he's climbing down."  
  
Aragorn glared at him. "Showoff."  
  
The elf favored him with an amused grimace and turned back. "They're heading toward Weathertop. Probably think it'll make better camp."  
  
"They're probably right." Aragorn replied, satisfied. *They should be safe there.* He squinted into the darkness, trying to see the figures.  
  
A sharp intake of breath redirected his attention. "What is it?" He whispered to Legolas. The elf had gone rigid.  
  
Wordlessly, he pointed. A dark shape glided across the valley.  
  
"Nazgúl!" Legolas hissed, hatred shining in his eyes.  
  
Aragorn searched for the hobbits. They were climbing the slopes of Weathertop, and he could just see them as they reached the top. Meanwhile, the wraiths were steadily approaching the hobbits' position.  
  
The two friends began to run, neither wasting breath on useless words. Both knew what the other was thinking. If they didn't reach the hobbits before the Nazgúl did.  
  
Even as they ran, they could tell it was too late. Already the Black Riders were at the foot of Weathertop, and the hobbits' cooking fire might as well have been a beacon. Aragorn could only hope the hobbits remembered how to use the swords he had given them. That was their only chance.  
  
Aragorn and Legolas were at the slopes of Weathertop when they heard the scream of the Nazgúl and the clash of swords. Above it all, they could hear Sam's voice. "Mr. Frodo!" His cry was full of anguish. The elf and ranger put on a fresh burst of speed.  
  
Aragorn somehow managed to reach the top before Legolas did, and he took in the scene in a glance. There were three hobbits lying on the ground off to the side, but Frodo was nowhere to be seen. The Wraiths were all gathered around the largest one, who seemed to be stabbing his blade into thin air. An unearthly scream, full of pain, filled the air.  
  
The ranger reached down to grab a burning stick from the hobbits' cooking fire as Legolas came up behind him. He drew his sword and rushed at the largest Wraith, trusting his back to his friend. His target turned at his approach, pulling his sword out of nothing and aiming it at him. Where his sword had been, Frodo suddenly appeared, screaming and clutching his shoulder. *Oh, Valar, no. Please, don't let him have been stabbed.* Aragorn pleaded futilely. He knew the truth. Fury drove him on, and he stabbed his sword and his firebrand into the black cloak of the Nazgúl. The sword passed straight through, but the fire caught. The Wraith screamed, this time in fear as he ran out into the darkness. Aragorn turned to look for another target, and barely managed to get his fire up in time to thrust it into a wall of black coming at him.  
  
Legolas followed Aragorn, drawing his knives in one smooth motion. He made for the closest Wraith, drawing him away from the others. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Wraith Aragorn was attacking pull his sword out of the air. On the end of it, a hobbit appeared. The elf blinked in amazement and was awarded for his inattention by a blow that narrowly missed his head. It was all he could do just to block the Wraith's attacks, and any of his strokes that did get through only opened a new tear in the black robes. He could tell his opponent was trying to maneuver him closer to the fire, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.  
  
Finally, the Wraith had Legolas right in front of the hobbits' campfire. Legolas held his ground, trying desperately to avoid the flames behind him and the sword in front of him. Then it came; the Nazgúl aimed a mighty thrust at the elf's midsection, and Legolas twisted away barely in time. The sword flashed just inches from his stomach, and the Wraith stumbled into the fire. In an instant he was up, screaming his fury as he fled to the darkness.  
  
Legolas turned just in time to see Aragorn thrust his fire at another Wraith. *Now, why didn't I think of that?* the elf wondered, then picked his own blazing stick from the fire.  
  
Suddenly, he saw the danger in his friend's position. Four more Wraiths were coming fast, and Aragorn had his back turned to them. Legolas surged forward, screaming Aragorn's name.  
  
A sword appeared out of nowhere, and the elf barely got his knives up in time to parry. Unprepared, he found himself giving ground before the Wraith's vicious attack. He wasn't even paying attention to the ground behind him, and didn't notice the large rock until he tripped over it.  
  
As he fell, he flung his arms up bringing his branch of fire directly into the onrushing Wraith's midsection. It retreated quickly into the darkness, burning.  
  
Aragorn turned as he heard Legolas shout. A sword filled his vision, and he wasn't quite able to block it in time. It opened a long gash in his arm, but he was still able to sweep his flame in an arch that caught three Wraiths at once. The last was behind him; he could hear it coming. Turning, he used his momentum to hurtle his burning stick into the Nazgúl's flowing robes.  
  
Legolas raced up to him. "Aragorn, are you hurt?" He demanded.  
  
Aragorn shook his head, hiding his wound. "The hobbits." He gasped.  
  
The two raced over to where Sam was bending over Frodo, Merry and Pippin looking nervously on. When Sam saw Aragorn coming, he drew his sword and stepped in front of Frodo. "Stay back, you." He trailed off as Legolas stepped forward. "It that - an elf?" He whispered in awe, dropping his sword to his side.  
  
Legolas ignored him and dropped to Frodo's side. "Aragorn, athelas!" He snapped, confused by the dazed look on the ranger's face.  
  
Aragorn blinked. "Right. Let's get to the woods." He staggered a few paces and then stopped, fighting off a wave of dizziness.  
  
Legolas studied his friend suspiciously. "Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"I'm fine. Just.tired." The ranger lied.  
  
The elf heaved Frodo over his shoulder, wincing at his cry. "Good. Let's go to Rivendell." He glanced over his shoulder at Frodo. "We haven't got much time."  
Sam stared, awestruck, at the elf that raced ahead of him. A real elf.That just showed how much they had misjudged Strider - or was he Aragorn? That's what the elf had called him. Sam wasn't so sure anymore. This man was confusing. But surely, if he was an elf's friend he couldn't be all bad. Plus, he had saved their lives. Sam felt like bashing his head against a wall. His gaffer was right - he was an idiot. Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut and stayed with the ranger in the first place?  
  
Strider was running a few steps behind the elf (Legolas - was that his name?) and he seemed to be in bad shape. Sam hoped his kalera didn't have bad side effects on men. It worked fine on hobbits. He would feel terrible if he had poisoned Frodo's savior.  
  
Suddenly, Strider collapsed. Sam, Merry, and Pippin, who were only a few steps behind him, couldn't stop in time and ran full tilt over the man, ending up in a heap on the other side.  
  
Legolas was by them in an instant, dropping Frodo and pulling his bow and arrows from his back in one smooth instant. "What is it?" he hissed, alert.  
  
"Strider just collapsed." Sam groaned from the bottom of the pile of hobbits.  
  
Legolas grabbed the man by the shoulder and tried to turn him. Strider gave a muffled cry and reached for his sword, yet was too weak to draw it. A sigh escaped the elf's lips. "Aragorn.Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
The ranger's eyes were glazed, and a jagged line of blood ran down his arm. "He's been stabbed by a morgul blade. Can you carry Frodo?" He asked the hobbits.  
  
Sam nodded and got to his feet. "Come on, you two." They lifted Frodo has Legolas did the same with Strider.  
  
"Once we reach the river, we'll be safe." He said firmly, then turned to the darkness and whistled. There was no reply.  
  
They walked like this for hours. Every few minutes, the elf would whistle, but there was never an answer.  
  
Finally, Legolas seemed to hear what he wanted, and a smile broke out on his face. An elvish horse raced toward them, saddle and bridle at ready. "I knew Glorfindel would send you to meet my father's party, Asfaloth." He whispered to the horse.  
  
"Come, Sam. Put your master on Asfaloth. He will not be allowed to fall." The elf followed his suggestion with Aragorn, and then helped Sam lift Frodo.  
  
No sooner did they have the two in the saddle than an unearthly scream split the air. "Nazgúl!" Legolas cried. "Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim!"  
  
The horse exploded into motion, carrying the hobbit and the ranger into the rising morning.  
Asfaloth snorted, trying to rid his nostrils of the disgusting odor of Nazgúl, then shifted slightly as he ran to keep the man on his back from falling. Was this really the little Estel who'd played so many pranks on Glorfindel? He certainly had gained weight since the last time he'd been on this horse's back!  
  
Asfaloth shifted his weight again, this time to keep the man from falling off the other side. It was fine for the Wraith horses to brag about being faster than elvish horses, but they didn't have to run all out with two unconscious riders that seemed to want to fall off.  
  
Pounding hooves behind him were as much an incentive as the smell of water ahead. The Bruinen! If he could get there before the Nazgúl did, they would be safe.  
  
Suddenly, two Wraiths appeared ahead, blocking the way. Asfaloth snorted with fury. They were *not* going to catch him. He knew what they'd do if they did. Putting on an extra burst of speed, he knocked the other horses aside and plunged into the river, swimming swiftly to the other side.  
  
He turned and screamed a challenge to the Wraith horses. They started slowly across the river. A rushing sound filled the air, and if Asfaloth could have smiled, he would have. The river seemed to rebel against the feet that trod it, and the water pounded down, knocking the enemy out of sight.  
  
Elves flooded around Asfaloth, pulling his burdens from his back. Elrond and Gandalf were there, helping, and the former went white at the sight of Aragorn. "Estel." He whispered. The man was beyond noticing anything by now, and he did not stir.  
  
Gandalf strode up to Asfaloth, worry on his face. "Where are the others?" He demanded.  
  
The horse pointed with his nose back the way he had come.  
  
"Are they all right?" The wizard asked.  
  
Asfaloth nodded. Gandalf sighed, relieved. "Praise Iluvitar. Can you take me to them?"  
  
Another nod, and they were off.  
Sam jumped at the sound of approaching hooves, automatically turning to Legolas. To his surprise, the elf was smiling. "It's Gandalf and Asfaloth. They made it!"  
  
The hobbits exchanged sighs of relief, and Merry and Pippin sat down. "No use standing when help's on the way." Pippin remarked wisely.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, and Gandalf burst through the trees. The first words out of the hobbit's mouth were not surprising. "Are they all right?" He demanded.  
  
At the exact same moment, Merry and Pippin chorused, "Where's the food?"  
  
Sam turned to them, irritated. "How can you think of food at a time like this?"  
  
Merry shrugged. "The horse must've got there. That means they're all right."  
  
Gandalf smiled. "They are indeed safe. And there is food waiting for you."  
  
His smile vanished as his gaze moved to Legolas. "Come. We have business to discuss."  
When the hobbits arrived at Rivendell, the place was in an uproar. Everywhere, elves raced to different tasks, carrying blankets or herbs. Gandalf led them easily through the throng to a room down the hall.  
  
Inside, Elrond bent over Frodo, his eyes closed and a hand on the hobbit's forehead. After a few minutes, he straightened and smiled at the group in the doorway.  
  
"He will be fine." Elrond proclaimed. "He almost wasn't, but your friend is remarkably strong."  
  
He walked to the next couch, where Strider lay. Sweat stood out on the man's forehead, and he was tied down to keep him from hurting himself. Elrond's breath blew out slowly. "Why can't you ever come home in one piece, Estel?" He muttered.  
  
Pippin spoke up. "Uh, mister elf, sir, what's his name? You call him Estel, Legolas calls him Aragorn, and Butterbur calls him Strider."  
  
Gandalf pulled the young hobbit backward. "Fool of a Took! Can't you see he's busy?"  
  
The wizard herded the Halflings out, leaving Legolas and Elrond alone with Aragorn. The older elf turned.  
  
"How?" He murmured.  
  
Legolas sighed. "Nazgúl. All nine. We were trying to save the Halflings."  
  
"Well, you saved them. Now let's save him." He paused. "He won't let me near. He thinks he's still fighting the Wraiths." Pain was evident on his face. "Maybe, since you were there, you could bring him back."  
  
Slowly, Legolas approached the couch. He bent over the man and placed his hand on his forehead.  
  
Instantly, he felt himself falling into the blackness that now surrounded his friend's life force. He was vaguely aware of his real body sagging, and then he was lost in Aragorn's fading life.  
  
He stumbled through the darkness, which seemed to be trying to push him back with every step he took. Black fingers reached out to grab him, but he shook them off and continued. Dimly, he saw a light ahead.  
  
He kept walking, and gradually the way grew easier - until he ran up hard against a solid wall of light. He could feel Aragorn on the other side, and he called out to his friend.  
  
"Aragorn! Let me through. Let me help you."  
  
An answering voice came from the other side. "NO! I won't let you kill them!"  
  
Legolas was confused. "Kill who?" Then it dawned on him. Aragorn was still back at Weathertop in his mind. "We're alright, Aragorn. We made it to Rivendell." He hesitated. "It's me, Aragorn. It's Legolas. We're alright."  
  
The wall seemed to weaken. "Legolas?" A whisper came from the other side.  
  
Legolas smiled. "Yes, it's me."  
  
The wall folded in on itself, and Legolas felt another presence beside him. It was Elrond. "Get out of here, now!" The elf lord snapped. "I almost lost you, too. I don't want another patient on my hands." He shoved him backwards, and Legolas tumbled into unconsciousness in his own body.  
Aragorn woke to hushed voices.  
  
"Do you think he's awake?"  
  
"Shh. We're not supposed to wake him."  
  
"You're being louder than I am!"  
  
"Am not! I'm quieter."  
  
"Are -"  
  
"Both of you shut up! You're going to wake him, and then Gandalf will kill us all."  
  
He smiled. Hobbits.  
  
Slowly, he opened his eyes, faking a yawn. He didn't want Gandalf too mad at them. Or did he? Maybe the wizard's ire could be part of a payoff for drugging him.  
  
"See what you did? Now we're in trouble because of your big mouth."  
  
"Wasn't my mouth that woke him up. Besides, yours is bigger."  
  
"Is not."  
  
"Is too."  
  
"Is not."  
  
"Is -"  
  
Aragorn sat up.  
  
"Strider!"  
  
Merry and Pippin turned away from seeing whose mouth was bigger and rushed to the side of the bed. Sam hung back a little. That was all the evidence that Aragorn needed.  
  
"So, Sam, I take it you were the one who drugged me?" he teased.  
  
Blushing, the hobbit nodded. "We thought you were.I mean we didn't know.You looked like a.We were scared." He stuttered.  
  
"It's all right. There was no way you could have known." A memory hit him suddenly. "Where's Frodo and Legolas?"  
  
"Oh, Frodo's fine. He's still in bed playing hooky." Pippin grinned.  
  
"Hooky?" Aragorn turned to Sam for an explanation.  
  
"It means he's fine, he's just acting sick." He glared daggers at Pippin. "Which is not true."  
  
"And Legolas?" Aragorn asked.  
  
Sam glanced over Aragorn's shoulder by way of explanation.  
  
Aragorn turned. Legolas lay on a bed next to his, sleeping peacefully. "What happened? I thought he was alright."  
  
"He is now. Elrond saved him when he tried to save you. He almost went down with you, but Elrond stopped you both." Sam replied. "He's just sleeping it off."  
  
Aragorn relaxed. Everyone was safe. He had not failed them.  
  
He watched the hobbits leave the room bickering and smiled. Maybe there was hope after all.  
  
The end. 


End file.
